S5 E9 Abu el Banat
by JDPostEpisodeChallenge
Summary: A JD Post-episode challenge advent calendar. One chapter a day through Christmas! Written by the electric eel and kcat1971
1. 1 Intro

Hey everyone, the electric eel & kcat1971 have teamed up to bring you a JD Post-episode Challenge Holiday story! It's based off S5 E9 Abu el Banat. We'll be posting 1 chapter per day from now through Christmas (Dec. 25). Chapters will alternate between Josh & Donna's point of view and range from 500-1200 words each. The story is almost completely written (we are just tweaking the final chapters.) Follow this story now so that you don't miss a bit. The first "real" chapter will posted tomorrow.

Happy Holidays from the electric eel & kcat1971!


	2. 2 Josh

I lean back in my chair, thumbing through the gift catalog that Donna gave me. She really does do a nice job picking out gifts. It's not like I have any real idea what to get my third cousin. I initial each spot mindlessly as I come across the tabs.

It's been quite a day. I probably should be focused on the missionaries in Sudan, but my mind keeps going back to Doug Westin. I sort of felt bad trying to shut him down. He's not the brightest bulb in the box, but he's usually a nice guy. Although I will admit, he didn't do me any favors today. Why couldn't he just take a hint?

If I'm going to be thinking about Doug Westin, I should be thinking about what kind of influence to wield in his fledgling campaign. There are several options. Should I try harder to get him out? I could call Hal. Should we consider going all in and endorsing him? I could probably get him elected. But I'd probably need to take a leave of absence to do it. And I really don't believe in him that much.

The most important thing is what's best for the White House. And what the President wants? If it's to get Doug out of the race, maybe the President shouldn't even know.

But if I'm really honest with myself, I'm thinking not really thinking about the politics. Because my mind keeps coming back to a little, tiny baseball glove. And the pride in Doug's voice when he said his son was already hitting like a pro. And the exasperation, but genuine love, when he described the challenges of raising a teenage girl. How would I feel if my daughter pierced her eyebrow? What would it be like to play catch with my boy?

It's not just today. I find myself having these thoughts more often now that Amy is out of the picture. While she had me ensorcelled, I didn't imagine having children. I just _can't_ imagine having children with Amy. There's only one woman I've ever thought of like that.

And here she comes now.

Oh sure, she looks so sweet and innocent in that soft pink sweater, but she's actually quite conniving, that one. And I'm about to call her out on it. As she's standing next to my desk, doing stuff with paper, I toss the catalog down in front of her-

"Who's that for?" I challenge her. She glances at the page, and her silence confirms what I suspected.

"You picked your own gift?!" I purposely make my voice sound shocked, even though I'm not.

"I'm in charge of shopping."

She refuses to accept the premise that she might possibly have done anything wrong. Smart girl. I've taught her well. Now, to have some fun.

"I already got your gift."

"No, you didn't. Three weeks in advance?"

She's right to be skeptical, but in this case she's wrong. I really did already buy her gift. She's going to love it. I can hardly wait.

"I saw it Thanksgiving. I got it."

"No, you didn't. What is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"I want to know."

No, she doesn't. Not really. She'd rather banter about it for three weeks. I know her. But, I play along.

"Really?" She just smiles at me expectantly, waiting to see if I'll cave and tell her. Ha! I'll show her. "It's a gift certificate. Tower Records. 'Cause you're a fan of the music. You get to go on a spree."

I watch her try to keep the disappointment off her face as I'm fictitiously describing her gift, and I almost confess, almost but not quite. Once she finds out what I actually got her, she won't mind that I lied.

Before I let her go listen to the carolers, I do need to get a little business done, so I reminder her to get me a meeting with APPROPS about reprogramming some Foreign Aid money.

As she heads out the door, I find I can't resist. I call her back.

"Donna." She turns and smiles at me, fully aware that the game is back on. "It's not a gift certificate."

Her eyes light up. "What is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"I want to know."

"Socks."

"Stop it."

"I'm not telling you. Live with the pain."

Donna walks away, giving me a little glare, but with an enormous grin on her face. I feel light and happy inside, the best I've felt all day. Like I said, only one woman I've ever imagined truly sharing my life with. And what a life it will be!

I need to remember to pick up some funny socks. Just to keep her guessing.


	3. 3 Donna

I leave his office with a huge grin on my face. I may look ridiculous, but I don't care. The banter is back. Truth be told, I was terrified that my relationship with Josh would never get back to what it was before Amy. But that? That was quintessentially us.

I can't help but wonder what he picked out for me, but just the thought of knowing that he put that much effort and forethought into it means the world to me. I'm sure that he will tease me about it for a few weeks, and quite frankly I'm looking forward to that as much as anything.

I admit that I have feelings for him- I always have, to be honest. For a long time I was able to brush it off. To convince myself that I had a silly crush on my boss. But it isn't a crush. In the late hours on that hot August night a few years ago I realized my feelings were much more than that. I was, and am, in love with Josh Lyman. He's my person.

More and more frequently, I find that our interactions take themselves to a whole new level. The cheeky banter carries a new undertone, and it may be my imagination, but I find him to be… flirtatious. His hand finds the small of my back with increasing regularity when we walk in step. We find ourselves staying late at the office and sharing evening meals even with nothing truly urgent going on, and he frequently lingers by my desk for no particular reason, almost as if he wants to tell me something. Call it reckless indulgence if you will, but I sometimes I swear he feels the same way about me as I feel about him.

As I head off to the lobby to listen to the carolers, I glance towards my desk. The stack of holiday cards I was writing on behalf of Josh's office sits there taunting me, but I know that they'll still be there later. There is always more to be done, but the key is taking a moment to enjoy where I am.

I lean against the door to the bullpen, hanging towards the back of the crowd as I listen to the flawless voices sing a few of my favorite carols. The holidays used to be a particularly tough time to be away from my family, but as I stand here, draped in the nostalgia, I'm not homesick in the least. I'm surrounded by a new type of family, and my heart is completely full. I'm at home in this city, and this White House. And though I may have left everything I'd known to drive to New Hampshire years ago, my soul was at peace for the first time I could remember when I met Josh.

In a few weeks, I'll be sitting on the couch at my parent's condo with a cup of warm cocoa watching my nieces and nephews open gifts with wide eyed smiles. I can't help but wonder if someday I'll watch my own children on Christmas morning. If I'll ever be snuggled under a blanket on the couch, wrapped in the warm embrace of the man I love. I can only hope that will be the case, but it just seems so far out of reach. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself the simple indulgence of imagining it.

My thoughts drift gently away as the carolers harmonize until I feel a gentle touch on the small of my back. I know his presence immediately and I glance over to give him a soft smile, moving ever so slightly closer to him.


	4. 4 Josh

As I place my hand on Donna's back, she turns and smiles at me. It's like the sun coming out. Christmas music isn't really my thing but I'll happily endure it just to spend some time with Donna.

A few minutes into the singing, I find I'm totally enjoying myself. Not because the carolers are fantastic, in fact, they're actually a little fussy, but because I love watching Donna listen to them. She's totally into it. She loves all things Christmas.

I wonder what celebrating Christmas with her would be like? Not just a quick gift exchange, like we usually do. But really diving in, helping her pick out and decorate a tree, maybe going to a midnight service on Christmas Eve, and then actually waking up together on Christmas morning. Snuggling together on the couch, with coffee, in front of the fire, watching the snow fall outside. Watching our kids run down the stairs, seeing their faces light up when they see the stockings and gifts.

I've never cared about Christmas before, but yeah, maybe I could get into it.

The one Christmas I spent with Donna was the worst. Really, I've analyzed it quite a bit in therapy. I felt both horrified that she knew what I'd done to myself, and relieved that she hadn't run away. In fact, she'd done the opposite. She'd canceled her flight home, taken me to the doctor, made sure my window was fixed, tucked me into bed, and slept on my couch to watch over me.

She'd given up time with her family and all the trappings of Christmas, to stay in a cold, bland bachelor pad, with her slightly crazy boss.

I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back, I can't help but think that it was probably a pretty good sign that she loves me. There's been a lot of water under the bridge since then. For most Christmases, she went back to Wisconsin. But the last one, she spent at the Washington Inn.

Okay, that one was actually the worst. Because by Christmas last year, I had figured out that I love her, but I was too chicken to tell her. Thank god, Jack is long gone. And maybe, hopefully, somehow, I think she might still love me.

It's taken me a year, but I've finally gotten up the nerve to find out. I really think my present will show her how much I love her, and possibly prove that I'm sane. And maybe, if things go how I hope, we might start spending all our Christmases together.

As the music ends and everyone disperses, I steer Donna back towards the Bullpen. Although I'm not chicken anymore, this isn't quite the time for declarations. But this is a good time for dinner.

"I'm hungry. We should get pizza."

Donna wrinkles her nose adorably and counter-offers. "Thai?"

"Too spicy."

"You're a big baby. You know that, right?"

"We could get burgers. There's that new place. It only sells burgers and fries."

"Chinese?"

"That sounds an awful lot like Thai. . . "

She gives me the pout, and I know I'm done for.

"Fine. Chinese. The usual."

She grins as we arrive back at her desk. "I'll order. You go back in there and see if you can accomplish something while we wait. I'd really like to be out of here by 10pm tonight." She points me to my office and tries to sound stern.

"Yes, dear."

She rolls her eyes, but as I turn to go, she picks up the phone and dials. After I walk through my door, I pause and lean back out and watch her with a satisfied smile. I might not be getting exactly what I wanted for dinner, but that doesn't matter, because I get to eat it with Donnatella Moss.

As she hangs up, I hurry over to my desk. I'd better get something done. I have my instructions and I don't want to disappoint her.


	5. 5 Donna

He thinks he's much smoother than he is. I can feel him watching me, but instead of finding his lurking annoying, I find it... comforting. His presence is reassuring in every way. Still, I can't help but smile as he returns to his desk to complete a few things so we can get out of here at a reasonable hour as I requested.

I address a few more envelopes on the holiday cards until security calls to inform me that our dinner has arrived, and we relocate into his office to eat.

We move in tandem, taking our places and opening the take out in comfortable silence.

"Bite?"

Josh opens his mouth as I feed him a piece of chicken from my chopsticks. He pauses only briefly from his task of picking the broccoli from his container of beef and broccoli and depositing the vegetables on top of my rice.

"Why do you insist on ordering beef and broccoli when you aren't going to eat the broccoli?"

He chews and swallows the chicken, while he contemplates the question.

"You like broccoli."

"Yes, I know. But that's your meal. Why don't you order something you like?"

"I like this."

"But you only like half of it."

"But you eat my broccoli."

"You are a strange man." He offers me a piece of broccoli with a grin. I open my mouth and he feeds it to me.

"Speaking of why I do something, why am I sending Christmas cards?"

"Well, they're really holiday cards. They contain a nice, bland, Season's Greetings."

"So they're even more pointless?"

"You know why you send them."

"How many am I sending?

"209 Congressmen, 49 Senators, 27 Governors, and the Chairman of the DNC." I sing it to the tune of the 12 days of Christmas and he grins at me like a loon.

"You're really quite ridiculous, you know."

"Yes, I do." But we can't seem to stop smiling at each other. It just feels so good to be together with nothing, and no one, hanging over our heads.

"You should send one to your parents," he suddenly suggests. "Because it's from, ya know, the White House. And you work here."

"My Republican parents? You'd like to send a holiday card from your office to Robert & Alessandra Moss, registered members of the Grand Old Party?" I have to say, I'm a little surprised. But it's a sweet gesture.

He shrugs his shoulders. "They can't be that bad," he emphasizes the 'that' with a mischievous smirk.

"After all, they did raise you."

That makes my heart flutter. "Trying to get in good with my parents so my mom will send more cookies to the office?" I banter.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that."

We finish dinner, chatting playfully in Josh's office, then I stand to return to my desk. "I'll print the information you'll need for your meeting with Baxley and Conroy, and put stamps on these. And then we're going home. You need some actual sleep tonight."

"Kay," he grins, not even fighting me on it. "Oh, here's the catalog back. I initialed everything. You're right. You're in charge of shopping."

His eyes have a little glint to them, and he's got a smug little look on his face. He's up to something. I quickly thumb through the pages, sensing a trap. Finally, I see it. An extra tab. He's circled a polar fleece half-zip pullover. I slap the magazine down in front of him.

"Who's that for?!" I challenge, already knowing the answer, but throwing his own words back at him for sport. "You picked out your own gift?"

He just continues to smirk at me.

"I already got your gift, too. I've had it for months."

He grins at me, then tries to act serious. "It's not a competition, Donna."

But I just raise an eyebrow. Of course it is. And I'm going to win.


	6. 6 Josh

I can't help but grin to myself as I hear Donna's laugh. Today's crazy socks are fuzzy brown, with antlers sticking out of the sides of them, googly eyes, and two red pom-poms on the big toes.

Everyday for the last week, I've managed to hide a pair of socks somewhere in her cubicle. Her laughter when she finds them is making the waiting bearable. I know she knows this isn't really her gift, but it's been fun. It's kept things light and flirtatious between us as we wait for Hanukkah.

I'm over the moon that she's going to be joining me and my Mother this year. Donna has always acknowledged Hanukkah, and given me a small gift. But I've never included her in the actual celebration. Even though, as Toby would point out, I'm not particularly observant, my Judaism is part of who I am. And I'm anxious to share another part of myself with her.

Of course, my Mom is also very happy that Donna's joining us. When I called to ask her if it would be alright if I invited Donna to our Hanukkah dinner, the sugary smugness of her agreement practically seeped through the phone. Her exact words: _It's about damn time_.

In fact, she's probably already started a list of names to suggest for the first grandchild. I hope she takes it easy when she actually gets here. Sometimes Donna can be a little skittish. I've got a plan to woo her, and I don't need any maternal interference, no matter how well-intentioned!

"Josh!"

"Yeah?"

"My Mom sent cookies!"

Damn. This is the price I pay for suggesting she send that card to her folks. I thought Italians were supposed to be good cooks? How is it that Sandy Moss's cookies are drier than the Sahara?

Donna's made me cookies before. And hers are always fine. Maybe her Mom just doesn't like me, the mean, old, Democrat that lured her baby into the bastion of political depravity.

"Josh!"

And when did Donna decide she gets to bellow for me? Somehow I've lost control. But even as I realize this, I find myself getting up and heading towards her desk.

She's sitting in her chair facing me, holding out a tin, grinning. Yeah, I may have lost control, and I may have to eat a dry cookie, but it's worth it.

I reach into the tin and grab a one. It's a little round cookie with colorful sprinkles on top. "Thanks. What kind is this?"

"Italian Wedding Cookie."

"You're kidding!"

Is Donna just harassing me, or is her Mom trying to send a message too? Oh my god. What if my Mom called her Mom? If they gang up on us, we could be doomed. I really would prefer that my future bride be willing, rather than tricked into an arranged marriage by our meddling parents.

Donna shakes her head a bit. And for a second, I wonder if I said that out loud.

"I'm not kidding. That's really what they're called. Don't worry, eating one doesn't conscript you into a lifetime commitment."

"I'm not scared of a cookie!"

I'm not actually scared of commitment either. I was just being patient. Hopefully, the need for patience is almost at an end.

"Well . . . ." Donna prompts.

"Well, what?"

"I thought you weren't scared of a cookie." She snarks, gesturing to the whole cookie still in my hand.

Right. I take a very tiny bit and discover that it's every bit as dry as the last batch that her mother sent. At least those had a chocolate kiss.

Only a few more days until I get my Mother's cooking. Latkes, challah bread, sufganiyot. Oh yeah, I'm ready.

In the meantime, maybe I can go find a pick up meeting, in a room with a garbage can.


	7. 7 Donna

It's usually difficult to get Josh to leave his office at the end of the day. Sometimes he's practically kicking and screaming. He always has more he wants to accomplish. One more brief to read. One more memo to dictate. One more person to call. One more dragon to slay.

But not tonight. Tonight, at 4:30, he's standing next to my desk in his coat and gloves as I gather my things. I slip into my jacket and pull my hair out of the collar as he reaches forward with my scarf, gently placing it around my neck.

It reminds me of all the times I've tied his bow tie. It's not really any more intimate than that. But it feels more intimate. Maybe because he's doing it for me. And maybe because I know how I always feel when I do it for him. It's taken a lot of will power over the years, not to pull him close and kiss the daylights out of him after I've accomplished that small task.

"I'll carry that," he offers, taking my oversized bag, which I gladly hand to him. My bag is unusally empty this evening. Normally, I'd be weighted down with a laptop, memos, and a list of 200 things we needed to accomplish before morning. But not tonight. "It can wait," he told me when I tried to grab some work to bring with us. And who am I to argue?

I pull the two neatly wrapped gifts from a spot in my bottom drawer under a bag of dried kale chips , give him a smile, and place them in my bag. Making him carry them is especially sweet because I know that he's been trying to figure out where his gift has been hiding all day... and he certainly never bothered to pick up the bag of kale.

He rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says "well played" without actually saying a word.

"Shall we?" He gently places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through the still bustling West Wing corridors, through the elaborately decorated lobby and out to his car, holding the door for me as I climb inside.

Finally, he can't resist any longer, "What did you get me?" he asks with a grin as he eyes the gifts, when he hands me my bag.

"Nice try," I hit back immediately. If I've kept the secret this long, I'm not spilling the beans now.

Truth be told though, I hope he doesn't have his hopes too high. I mean, I know he'll like it, but it's always been difficult for me to buy for Josh and his mother. What do you get two people who have always been able to afford practically anything they've wanted? And I'm a girl on a budget. Still, these two are important to me and I hope this will convey that to them.

I've done a fair amount of research on what to expect this evening, but I still feel a little nervous. I like to know what to anticipate, and especially tonight, I'd like to be prepared. I'd hate to mess something up. The best bet is just to ask him. When I ask a sincere question, he's always happy to give me information.

"So, um, we just have dinner and light the candle? And then we exchange gifts?" I hope my voice doesn't convey the nerves that I feel. I've had dinner with Josh hundreds of times, but this is completely different. There's something that has changed in the air between us. I can feel it. And tonight is important. He keeps his personal life incredibly sheltered, and though those lines blurred for us years ago, this is a whole new level. It's not lost on me that he's inviting me into an intimate setting, an evening with his mother, the only family that he has, to participate in an evening shrouded in tradition. It's important to him, and to his mother, and now, it's incredibly important to me.


	8. 8 Josh

Donna's questions seem to spring from nervousness, rather than curiosity. I'm sure she's done some reading on Hanukkah. She loves to learn. There's no way that she's worked for me for this long without trying to learn about my faith. Not because of me, just because she'd want to know.

I wonder why she's nervous. I hope I'm not putting too much pressure on her. I really want to show her more of the non-work parts of me. There aren't very many of them, but I want to share them with her. I want to share everything with her. This is a good place to start.

"We'll actually light the candle first. It's supposed to be lit before sunset because it's the Sabbath."

"You're usually not this observant about the Sabbath."

"I think my Mom called Leo."

"Oh."

"I'm glad we had a slow day. It's nice to be able to indulge her." I am glad. It wouldn't have occurred to me to leave work early, but this is important to my Mom. I need to start doing a better job at this family stuff.

"My Mom's really glad you're coming for dinner." I take a chance and reach over and give her had a squeeze. "I am too."

Donna looks down at my hand holding hers, then gives it a squeeze back."Thanks for inviting me." The hand holding thing is something I haven't tried before. But it feels natural. And it seems to relax her.

In fact, she gets a little smirk, that I can tell means she's about to harass me about something.

"Speaking of slow days. Are you going to tell me what's happening tomorrow? You had me block it off three weeks ago. What's going on that you knew we'd need to work until late Saturday night? You haven't had me set up any meetings, or arrange any food, or prepare any materials."

She was half teasing, but I take a serious tone in response. "I'll tell you when you need to know. You know how these things work, Donna. I can't always tell you everything right away. You trust me, right?"

"Of course, I do."

Donna's smirk is gone but it's replaced with a genuine smile. I'm blown away. This isn't her being naïve and me putting one over on her. She really does trust me that much.

We park the car and hustle into the apartment with five minutes to spare. Mom is waiting by the door, my father's yarmulke and the Menorah ready to go.

As I light the shamash candle and give the blessing in Hebrew, Donna smiles and her faces softens. She's looking at me in a whole new way. Out of instinct, I repeat the blessings in English. I want her to hear them.

"Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah light.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion."

Then I light the first candle. When I'm done, and I've placed the shamash candle in it's spot, Mom softly starts singing Maoz Tzur. I take her hand and join her. After a moment, Donna takes my other hand and Mom's hand so that we form a small circle. I don't know why she did it, but it's a beautiful moment. I feel like the three of us are connected. A family. I wonder how long before I can make it official. I don't want this feeling to ever end.

But after a few moments the song is over. "The food's almost ready," Mom announces. "Joshua, set the table."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can I help with anything?" Donna offers.

"Yes, dear. You can help me in the kitchen."


	9. 9 Donna

"You have a beautiful voice," I find myself telling him softly.

And he does. I've heard him sing in passing, but it's never been anything like this before.

As I join Marjorie in the kitchen, I inhale deeply. Dinner smells delicious and it's so comforting. Sure, it may be a far cry from the holiday traditions I grew up with, but I feel so cloaked in love in this moment.

"What can I do to help?" It's not an idle offer. I'd really like to lend her a hand, and to perhaps learn a few things in the process.

"Well," Marjorie washes her hands, moving a step to her left to make room for me at the sink. "Everything is pretty close to done. All we have to do is make the latkes."

Marjorie patiently explains to me what she's doing and encourages me to take over on a few. It's a nice moment, and it reminds me once again how at home I feel with the Lymans.

"Latkes are Joshua's favorite," Marjorie tells me, "so I made sure we'd have plenty, since I don't make them often."

Josh pops back into the kitchen and comes over to stand behind us. He's managed to set the table and quickly change out of his wrinkled suit and into jeans and a sweater. He looks incredibly handsome and he gives me a full dimpled grin when we make eye contact as he walks over. I feel his hand rest gently on my hip as he looks over my shoulder. He's a tactile man, but tonight he's moving with cautious intent. He's clearly a little unsure of himself, and I hope I'm sending him reassuring signals.

"They look great," he tells us.

Marjorie tries to suppress a smile when she watches Josh interact with me out of the corner of her eye. I'm glad she isn't making a huge deal of this, because frankly, even I'm unsure of what it all means. I know it feels right, and I know I want to explore it further, but this is an area where Josh can be a bit hard to read, even for me.

"So dear, do you have a holiday favorite? Something your Mom always makes?" Margie keeps the conversation flowing. "

Yes," I concentrate on the answer to the question, trying not to become lost in how good Josh's hand feels as his thumb grazes absently over my hip bone. "We made sugar cookies. It's my grandmother's recipe. We roll out the dough and cut out shapes with cookie cutters that my grandfather made in the 1930s. They are all animal shapes that he copied from a coloring book. Then we frost them and add cinnamon drops for the eyes, and sprinkles for the fur. You know, I think I was in junior high before I realized that crazy animal cookies had nothing to do with Christmas!"

"Really?" Josh beams at me, listening intently to my words. I nod in confirmation. It's one of my favorite childhood memories.

"That's a lovely tradition, dear. And how fortunate that you have those handmade cutters. What a treasure."

"They really are," I agree.

"Is that the same recipe as the sugar cookies you brought to the office last year?"

"Yes," I give him a smile for remembering. "Those are the same cookies. Didn't you wonder why yours was shaped like a horse?"

"I thought it was a donkey… because we're democrats." he trails off, clearly thinking carefully about the situation.

I chuckle softly at the perplexed look on his face.

"Okay, kids," Marjorie turns off the heat to the burner and picks up the platter of latkes we've just made. "Dinner is ready. Joshua, dear, carry the brisket to the table. Let's all take our seats."


	10. 10 Josh

Watching her in the kitchen with my Mom, I almost couldn't help but touch her. It's not the first time I've felt that way. Over the years, my hand has often found its place in the small of her back as we walked, or caressed her arm without me even thinking about it. But now we are the precipice of something, and I'm very aware of my actions. I'm also very aware that Donna didn't shy away from my fingers rubbing her hip. She actually leaned into me and smiled at me. I'm pretty sure she's sending me green light signals! I just hope I'm right.

Once we are seated, Donna passes me the vegetables and I feel two sets of eyes on me as I dig through the bowl before taking a couple of carrots and a pearl onion.

"What? There are mushrooms in there!"

My Mother rolls her eyes, but Donna gives me a fond smile. I guess she's feeling gracious today. Normally, she'd tease me about my child-like eating habits.

"We have to give him a break, Margie, after all, he's only five! We should be glad he took any vegetables at all."

Oh. Well, there's the Donna I know and love.

Dinner is fantastic. The three of us converse easily. This is just comfortable. But as the meal comes to a close, I start to feel little flutters of nervousness. I know she'll like the gift I have for her. But what if she thinks it's too much? What if she doesn't respond the way I want her to?

Mom gets up and starts clearing the table, so I jump up to help her. I want Donna to see that I can be domestic when I want to. Plus the sooner we clean up, the sooner we can get to the gift exchange!

It doesn't take long until the dishwasher is running.

"I'll be back in a minute, why don't the two of you take some coffee into the living room and get comfortable." Mom suggests sending me a sly wink. Sometimes her desire to see Donna and I together is practically palpable, but I'm glad she's keeping herself mostly in check tonight.

When she returns, she finds Donna and I snuggled into the couch. My arm is around her, and she's leaning into me. This isn't the first time we've ended up in this position. In fact, it is how we often end up when we travel together. But today, it just feels like there's more to it.

Mom practically glows in satisfaction as she hands us each a wrapped box. "Happy Hanukkah!" She announces.

I let Donna unwrap hers first. From the shape and size, it's no mystery to me what it contains, although I don't actually know for certain.

"Oh my god!" Donna squeals pulling out a pair of Louboutin pumps. They are so iconic, even I know what they are. I'm so pleased with Mom. Not because she bought Donna an expensive gift, but because what the shoes represent. Mom is telling me in not-so-subtle terms that Donna is part of this family, and that she will love, care for, protect and yes, indulge her, as if she were her own daughter.

"I can't even believe this!" Donna gushes. "You really shouldn't have! But they are perfect. Black patent leather pumps. I can even wear them to work!"

"Oh Donna, I'm an old woman, and I can afford them. I'm glad they make you happy."

Donna gets up and hugs Mom. "Thank you, Marjorie." Then she sits down next to me to watch me open mine.

Of course it's shoes. My Mother buys almost all my shoes. Donna thinks it's sweet. I get up and give my Mom a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Ma." I hand her a package and she unwraps a new biography of Jacqueline Kennedy that she's been wanting.

"Thank you, Joshua. I was hoping to have a new book for the plane ride home."

"I have something for you too." Donna announces a little timidly, then hands one of her packages to Mom, before sitting back down a little uncertainty.

Mom opens the wrapping carefully, smiling at Donna. When she opens the box, she gasps in genuine delight, and I see Donna visibly relax, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Donna! This is beautiful. Did you make this yourself?" Mom pulls out a knit scarf that is various shades of blue. It's gorgeous.

"Yes, I learned how to knit. I've been practicing." Donna answers a bit shyly.

"Joshua. Feel this." Mom demands, so I lean forward and rub it between my fingers. It's so soft. And it's well made. It doesn't seem like it's a beginner's work.

Once again I'm filled with amazement. How did Donna find the time to do this? And the fact that she would spend so much energy making a gift for my Mom. She's incredible.

Mom stands up and motions to Donna for a hug. "Thank you dear. You are an incredibly talented woman and this has been a lovely evening, but I'm feeling rather tired from traveling today. I hope you'll both forgive me if I retire early."

I stand up to give Mom a hug too. I'm sure she's just giving us some privacy for our gift exchange. It's an incredibly sweet gesture. Although it _is_ a bit self-serving. I know she wants grandchildren!

"Good night, Mom. I love you."

"Good night, Joshua. Good night, Donna."

"Good night, Marjorie."

Once Mom has left the room, Donna hands me my present. It's flat, about the size of an 8x10 photo.

"I guess I'm not getting mittens?" I tease her. But she just smiles at me. Her eyes are sparkling.

I rip off the paper and I'm not surprised it's a picture frame. But when I turn it over, I'm stunned.

Inside the matte is a signed Tom Seaver baseball card.

Next to it is a photo of my Dad and I in Mets caps. It was a few weeks before my tenth birthday. We are both grinning at the camera with our matching dimples fully on display. It's one of my Mom's favorite pictures of us.

"Donna. This is amazing. How'd you do this?"

"Well, of course, your Mom helped! I wanted to get someone from your childhood. And I remembered you said that Tom Seaver was the greatest Mets pitcher of all time. After I found the baseball card on ebay, I called your Mom for a photo. She sent me this one and I framed it for you. You like it?"

"Seaver pitched a one-hitter that day. It was incredible. This is perfect. Thank you."

I can't believe how happy this makes me. It's not the gift itself, it's that she took the time to find something that I'd cherish. She's showing me that she cares about my life outside of work, and reminding me that there is more to life than my job. I've been realizing that more and more. God, I love her. And I'm starting to feel more confident that she loves me too. I guess I'm about to find out.

I pick up the present and hand it to her. I hope she understands what I'm trying to do here, although it really is her choice what she does next. I just want this to be perfect.


	11. 11 Donna

Josh hands me the last remaining gift with what I can only classify as nervous anticipation. I meet his eyes and give him a soft smile. Even though I tease him about being, well, Josh, he's always given excellent gifts. I will always cherish _The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing_. When I first saw an old book, I was a little surprised, but when I read the inscription . . . . well let's just say, from that moment on I was a lost cause. I knew there'd never _really_ be anyone else for me.

Since then there have been some really nice gifts. He's a generous man and he feels everything very deeply. He's marked holiday seasons, birthdays and even anniversaries, with his own brand of loving care. I think it's safe to say neither of us have been far from the other's thoughts at any given point in our somewhat unconventional relationship. We always managed to find a few quiet moments to ourselves in order to exchange gifts. His have always been meaningful.

As I turn the box over in my hands, the first thing that catches my attention is the wrapping. It's a high quality navy blue paper with a gold silk ribbon that's fancy enough to show me that there was great care put into the gifts presentation, but it's overall still messy enough that I can tell Josh did it himself. The combination of these two factors is enough to send me over the moon. It could be an empty box and I'd still be over the moon at this point.

But I know it's not an empty box. And playful banter aside, I somehow know that this is a gift of significance. I carefully undo the tape and slowly remove the paper. Josh is about to come unglued watching me. I think he wishes I'd just tear into it, but I can't bring myself to do so. I open a long, shallow box and remove the lid.

My mouth falls a little agape and I'm certain my emotions are visible on my face as two tickets to Yo Yo Ma at the Kennedy Center are revealed. "Josh…" I whisper, completely stunned, my hand moving to my heart. I'm floored.

For a few minutes, I don't even know what to say. Not that I could say much of anything. I'm fighting back tears, and trying not to throw myself into his arms and kiss him senseless in gratitude. This is an incredibly thoughtful gift. It shows that he's been paying attention all these years. That he knows what I like, and that an experience will mean more to me than something physical.

I look up and see him in a borderline panic. Does he think I don't like them? He's desperately searching my reaction for a sign. So I give him a huge grin. "This is… amazing."

I turn slightly and wrap my arms around him, unable to stop smiling. He pulls me close in his embrace, burying his face in my neck. We stay that way for a few beats longer than expected, and I find myself closing my eyes and breathing him in. Eventually we part a bit and I kiss him on the cheek, my hand cupping his face as I move slowly away from him. "Thank you," I tell him with sincerity, meeting his eyes with a soft smile.

I settle back into my place on the couch, and immediately start over thinking his gift to me. I don't want to read too much into this. But is this what I think it is? Is he asking me out? I don't want to make a fool out of myself if I'm wrong about the signals he's sending me right now. But this whole night has felt like something is about to happen, the air seems charged with anticipation, and I find my courage.

"So, when are you picking me up?"

He relaxes a little and grins. "Five?"

"Perfect! Yo Yo Ma at Christmas! This is going to be . . . oh, god."

I can't believe I didn't think about it. Maybe he shouldn't take me. Maybe I shouldn't have expected it. Maybe he didn't mean to and he's just being polite. I'm confident that Josh hasn't had a PTSD episode since that Christmas party. I just know that he would have told me if he did. But I don't know if he listens to classical music anymore. He's very good about keeping his therapy appointments, and honestly, in some ways, he's more well adjusted now than he was before the shooting. But still, I don't want him to feel obligated to take me if he's been avoiding the music all this time.

"What?" The slight panic look is back in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed that you'd take me. Are you going to be okay with the music? You don't have to go with me if it's going to bother you. You know he's going to play the Bach Suite in G Major," I whisper almost timidly. I don't want him to feel pressured either way.

Josh sounds confident when he answers me. "Actually, I was hoping you'd take me," he admits. "Donna, I _want_ to go. I want us to go together."

"There's never going to be anyone else I'd rather be with." I surprise even myself with my bold word choice, Josh's confidence must be contagious.

Josh gives me a small self-satisfied smile, and for a second I think he's going to kiss me. But he just pulls me in a little closer and rests his head on top of mine.

We stay that way for a while, just thinking our own thoughts.

A few years ago, I'd be freaking out right now, wondering if I'm misreading the signs, or if I like him more than he likes me. But after all these years, I really do have a master's degree in Josh Lyman.

People think he's like a bull in a china shop, but he's really much more methodical than they realize. He's got a plan in his head. We took some big steps forward tonight, and we've got tomorrow. I'm content to just lay here in his arms and listen to his heartbeat and watch the fire.


	12. 12 Josh

I think Donna's asleep. I'm close to it myself. If Mom wasn't here, I'd be tempted, well more than tempted, to have her sleep over. But I don't want to leave her out here on the couch, and I don't want to have to explain to my Mother that we shared a bed!

Not that she'd care. In fact, Mom would be over-the-moon to wake up and find Donna and I sleeping in each others arms. The problem is she'd assume that would mean we _slept_ together, and then I'd have no way of getting her to keep her commentary to herself.

She'd never believe me if I told her the truth. That is, Donna and I have slept together more than once, in a completely, well okay, mostly, platonic way. After Rosslyn, once Mom went home, Donna and I frequently fell asleep together out of sheer exhaustion.

Some mornings it was difficult to hide my attraction to her. Hey, I'm a red-blooded American guy. Of course, I've always been attracted to her. But I had convinced myself that we were just friends. And what was happening to my body was just biology. Frankly, I was more relieved than anything to discover that everything was in working order.

But now, I know without a doubt that I want more than a platonic relationship with Donna. And there's no way I'm sharing a bed with her until we are ready for the next step.

And once we get there, my days of having to wake her up and take her home will be over. I'll be able to hold her in my arms all night, and show her exactly how I feel in the morning.

I'm looking forward to the future. But in the meantime, I'll indulge myself for a little while longer with the present.

Enjoying the weight of her in my arms, running my hands through her hair. Watching her shallow breathing, and slight smile as she sleeps. Trying to count the freckles across her nose.

And while I'm doing it, I'll thank God for letting me live long enough to have this chance.

Eventually, the fire dies out, and it's time to bring this day to a close. I'm glad it's after midnight. That means by the end of today, I'll know where I stand with Donna. I'll either be the happiest man alive or trying to heal a broken heart.

"Donna. . . wake up, I'll take you home."

She sits up and rubs her eyes a little. God, she's adorable. And sexy. I have to fight the urge to kiss her the way I want to. It's not time yet. I need to be patient just a little while longer.

"I fell asleep? I'm sorry. I was just so comfortable, and watching the fire was sort of mesmerizing. What time is it?"

"It's after midnight. Let's get your coat."

The drive to her apartment doesn't take nearly long enough. I wish I could squeeze out a few more minutes of togetherness, but before I'm ready to let her go, we're parked in front of her apartment. It feels like we are right on the edge, and I sort of want to grab her hand and jump off. But I need to stick to my plan. I just have to wait a few more hours.

I think Donna senses it too. She looks at me a little shyly as I open her door and help her out of the car. "I had a great time tonight. Thanks for the tickets, and thanks for including me in the celebration."

As I walk her to the front door, open it, and hold it for her to walk through, she looks like she's about to ask me in. I know I'll have a hard time resisting if she does, so I stop on threshold.

"Okay, goodnight. I'll pick you up at 5. We'll have dinner before the concert?"

"It's a date." Donna answers, casually. A little too casually for my liking. I want to be _really_ clear about this.

"Donna . . . I'd like it to be a date. A real date. Are you okay with that? I mean, if you're not, we can still go as friends. I don't want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable. It's just . . . ."

She puts her finger over my lips.

"Yes, Joshua. A real date. I'd like that too."

 **A/N- We live for comments so please tell us what you think about this story! Were you surprised by the Yo Yo Ma tickets? Now that you've read Josh's point of view does it seem like really the gift is telling her how he feels? What do you think about Josh's master plan? You'll definitely want to stay tuned to see how the date goes, and what happens next. The next chapters are snappy, so we can switch back and forth between Josh & Donna's point of view, but there are longer chapters coming again soon!**


	13. 13 Donna

I carefully apply my mascara and take a step back from the mirror, blinking a few times and double checking my work. I'm pleased with the way I look so far, standing in my robe with large rollers in my hair.

But I'm nervous. Tonight is, without a doubt, the most important first date of my life. Just the thought sends a wave of borderline nausea running through me. I don't want to mess this up.

I open the door to my closet and pull out the gown I've been saving for a special occasion. I found it last year on a clearance rack and couldn't resist. It's a floor length red satin gown that fits me like a glove and shows just enough skin to be a little sexy but remain the proper attire for the Kennedy Center. I slip into it and ease the zipper up before removing the oversized rollers and looking at myself in the mirror.

At 5:00 on the dot Josh knocks on my door. It makes me smirk a bit as I wonder if he's been waiting in the hallway for our agreed upon time. I give myself a spritz of perfume and take a deep breath. This is it.

I open the door and find that his face mirrors mine- nervous anticipation. As soon as I see him I smile and he breaks into a full dimpled grin. I feel the butterflies in my stomach again, but this time, it's completely different. The nerves are quickly dissipating as I take him in. My heart skips a beat. This is Josh, the man I've long known to be my soulmate, and he's here to pick me up on our first date.

"Hi," I tell him softly. He's incredibly handsome, dressed in his tuxedo.

"You're breathtaking." His voice does sound a little breathless. And he's staring at me with unmasked adoration. It makes me blush a bit under his gaze.

"Thank you." It's all I can come up with. We're just staring at each other with goofy smiles on our faces. I don't think that either of us can believe this is finally happening.

"Is that a new dress?" He stands there, taking me in.

"Yes, it is." I'm thrilled that he noticed.

"Let me see it," He extends his hand to mine and motions for me to turn, twirling me in my doorway and causing me to throw my head back a little and laugh. This is already the best date I've ever had.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world," he tells me, giving my hand a little squeeze before he hands me a bouquet of the most beautiful white roses I've ever seen.

I bring them to my face and smell them, not letting go of his hand and stepping back into my apartment to place them in water and retrieve my wrap. As I fill a vase I glance over to him, his hip leaning against the countertop, a mischievous look on his face.

"Donnatella," he begins in an amused tone, "Did you steal that dress?"

"I bought this dress!" The giant grin on his face lets me know that he's kidding, and we laugh together, making me feel even more at home in his presence.

"And I'm not returning it tomorrow. I took the tags off," I add for good measure.

"Well, I'm glad, because you are absolutely stunning. I'd buy that dress to keep you from taking it back."

I'm beyond flattered by his continuous compliments, but I can't help but to bring the banter. I think we need it- we're both a bit nervous.

"Are you going for the Tony Bennett look tonight, or do you want me to tie that for you?"

"I want you to tie it. I _always_ want you to tie it. Every. Single. Time. It's the best part about wearing a tuxedo."

I step towards him and grab the tie. This is one of my favorite indulgences. It has always been a little moment with him that is mine and mine alone. Tonight, as my fingers work the material, the moment is even more intimate than it's ever been before. I move my body slightly closer to him and his hands find my hips, steadying me as I pull the final loop on the bow.

I finish my task and rest my palms against his lapels. Then I move to step away, but Josh stills me, his eyes darkening a bit as I swear he stares into my soul. He tilts his head slightly and softly presses his lips to mine, giving me a simple kiss that lingers with me. I swear I could melt into him. He moves just slightly away from me, and suddenly the air between us seems charged. Josh pauses a brief second. If he's waiting for my approval, I don't hesitate to provide it, my hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as he moves towards me again, capturing my lips with a renewed intensity.

I swear I go weak in the knees as my lips part and his arms wrap around me.


	14. 14 Josh

At some point my brain starts to function again, and it's incredibly pleased with me. Two thoughts are rolling through my mind: I'm kissing Donna! And she's kissing me back!

It's possible that we've been doing this for quite a while, and maybe I should stop, so we could actually start our first date, but I don't want to. I want to stand here forever, with her in my arms, just like this. I want to explore her mouth, and breathe in tandem with her, and when that stops, I want to place gentle kisses on her nose and eyelids, and I want to nibble on her neck, and her earlobes, and her collarbone. And if I ever get tired of doing that, although I can't imagine that I would, I want to undress her and explore all the parts of her that are covered up by this incredible red dress.

But somehow, since my brain is functioning again, I am reminded that I really _do_ want to take her on a first date right now. So after a few more minutes, I force myself to stop the kissing, and slowly pull away.

I feel flushed, and dazed, and _happy_ , as I look into her face. Dare I say, she looks a little dazed and happy too? It makes me grin, and I feel my chest puff up a little. I did that. I put that blush on her cheeks and that look in her eye. I can't wait to see what she looks like after we make love for the first time.

I don't know exactly what to say, so I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Every time you tied my tie, I've wanted to do that! I was going to wait until the end of the date to try to kiss you, but I just couldn't wait any longer!"

Donna grins, in her knowing, indulgent way. "I've wanted you to do that every time I've tied your tie! I'm glad you didn't wait until the end of the night. Honestly, I didn't really want you to stop. But I am wearing this dress, and I am kind of hungry, and I really do like Yo Yo Ma."

"Yo Yo Ma Rules!" I announce as I pump my fist enthusiastically.

Donna laughs at my teasing. "Well, then, let's go."

"Do you have a coat?"

"Yes."

She picks up a thin wrap and places it around her shoulders. I've never understood this, and I can't help but harass her gently over it.

"That's not really a coat, you know. Why do you women insist on going out in the middle of winter in a sleeveless gown, with gauze wrapped around you? You're never going to be warm enough."

"I can't very well wear a puffer jacket with this dress, now can I?"

She poses with one hip cocked out to the side, and I'm again very tempted to just stay in tonight. I mean, I could get tickets for some other time, right? . . . The plan. I must remember the plan. I am going to woo her if it kills me.

"I guess not. . . . . Here, wear mine." I take my coat off and drape it around her, earning a look of adoration. Oh yes, the wooing, it has begun.

"It's so warm. But now you'll be cold."

"I'll be fine." Besides, I'd suffer frostbite a hundred times over just for the look that she's giving me right now.

"My lady, your chariot awaits." I hold out my elbow to her and she slips her arm through it, and we're on our way.

As we pull away from Donna's apartment, my heart starts accelerating a bit. This is it! We are doing it! Our first date. I look over at Donna and grin at her.

She grins back. She really does seem just as happy as I am about this. Unbelievable!

"So . . . where are we going?"

"We're almost there. Would you like to be surprised?"

"Okay."

A few minutes later, we pull up to the valet.

"Phoebe's." She announces with a smile. "Excellent choice."

Leo recommended this when I told him I was taking Donna out. Based on Donna's reaction, I'm really glad I listened to him. As we get out of the car and make our way inside, I notice that Donna is looking around, taking in every detail. I'm a bit surprised.

"Is this the first time you've been here?"

"No. I had a date here a few years ago."

I try not to get jealous, but I can't help but ask, "which Gomer was it?"

"A guy named Todd." That doesn't really ring any bells for me. He must have been short lived.

"Do you want to go somewhere else or was the food good enough to overcome the bad date?"

She didn't really say it was a bad date, but I'm operating off the assumption that it was.

"I want to stay. I've heard so many good things about this place, I want to give it a chance."

"What did you get last time?"

She wrinkles her nose. "Two whiskey sours and a bowl of soup."

"That's kind of odd."

"It was a short date."

"Was it my fault?"

"No. It wasn't. But I don't want to talk about that. I'd rather focus on enjoying this time with you."

There's a part of me that wants to press for the story. But she's right. We don't need to hash over anything from the past. We're here together now. And the future is ours.


	15. 15 Donna

Once we enter the restaurant, Josh helps me slip the coat off, then takes it to the coat check. We're shown to our table almost immediately, sweeping past a crowd of people. I know we are getting special treatment because of who Josh is. When I make reservations for him, the maitre d' is always offering up-grades and asking what type of table Josh prefers. I'm sure he never waits to be seated.

We are shown to a dimly lit corner table, where Josh holds out my chair for me. I'm more than a little relieved that we're not seated in the center of the room. Sometimes he does want that kind of table, so that everyone can see who he's wining and dining, or racking over the coals, as the case may be. But this table affords us a least some measure of privacy. And even though I'm thrilled that we are out on a date in public, I can't imagine that Josh wants to advertise it. And I really don't want to be the center of attention.

The server hands us menus and a wine list, then vanishes. As soon as he does, Josh moves a bit closer to me, resting his hand lightly on my leg. Given how close he is, anyone looking at us would assume we are dating. I'm slightly surprised at his pubic display of affection, but it just feels so right.

"Do you want to share a bottle of wine?" He asks, holding up the list and leaning even closer. I just nod. We wraps his arm around me and we peruse it together. I feel a little like I'm living a dream right now.

He suggests a Far Niente Chardonnay and I softly give my agreement. I'm sure it will be wonderful. It's not like I know that much about wine anyway. And I'm feeling a touch overwhelmed with the sudden intensity of feelings that Josh's behavior is invoking.

I've become so accustomed to his usual frenzy that I sometimes forget that this is how he is when he's not working. He was raised with manners and sophistication and he can certainly be a gentleman. He's really turning on all his charm. It's safe to say that I'm being wooed.

He's even more tactile than usual tonight, taking every opportunity he can to touch me or lean in to whisper softly as we share a single menu. Quite simply he's oozing charm. And as soon as I adjust to it, I find myself flirting unabashedly in return. I love Josh in work mode, but I have to admit that I am absolutely enjoying this particular development.

Our little intimate moment is broken when the sommelier returns with our bottle. A few moments later, we place our orders with the waiter and are quickly left to ourselves once again.

I lightly swirl the wine in my glass and take a small sip. It really is a wonderful wine. And even though, Josh is typically a beer-guy, I'm not surprised. Josh takes a drink, then leans back in his seat.

"So," he smirks at me, and I instantly feel the shift into playfulness. His nonchalant tone of voice suggests that he's trying to play it cool, "are you from around here?"

"I'm originally from Wisconsin," I play along with the first date conversation, "but DC is home now." I speak the last words with a little more intensity, but then banter back, "What about you? Do you work in politics?"

"No," he says, with a completely straight face. "I'm a ballerina."

Somehow I manage to keep a straight face. This is a game that we both enjoy, and I'm just as good at it.

"Oh! You're THAT Josh Lyman? I've heard of you before."

"Ah, my reputation precedes me, does it?" His cocky smile gets me every time. I

roll my eyes at him, but truth be told I'm completely enamored. The game is so much more fun now that we know where we stand with each other. But suddenly, I feel my shoulders droop.

"It does," I admit in a flat tone.

"What's the matter?" He furrows his brow, immediately picking up on the change in my demeanor, clearly unsure of what caused it.

"Senator Starkey," I nod subtly to the man approaching our table from the other side of the restaurant.

"Josh, Donna," the Senator greets us. "Good to see you two."

"Senator," Josh extends his hand.

He's clearly not amused to see the man, but he's a world class political operative through and through, so he won't be outright rude. Still, in spite of his cordial greeting, Josh is certainly not going out of his way to make small talk. Instead he waits, with one eyebrow cocked, for the Senator to either get the hint, or say something of substance.

Finally, the Senator glances at me and I see the realization dawn in his eyes. Suddenly, I'm a bit uncomfortable under the public scrutiny.

"Fancy place for a working dinner, Lyman," the Senator offers slyly, raising an eyebrow. I know Josh must have run through every possible scenario in his head before making our reservations at such a well known spot, but still, I don't want to be the source of any backlash for him.

At that Josh stands up to his full height. It's funny, I never think of him as a big guy, but when he's like this he certainly has an intimidating presence. He gives the Senator a look that tells him he has about 30 seconds to retreat from the table. But when he speaks, his tone is deceptively pleasant.

"Senator, we aren't working tonight. So that means I have no interest in discussing the highways bill you're backing. I'm on a date with a beautiful woman and I'm sure you can understand that I'd like to return my attention to her. Feel free to call my office on Monday morning." Josh holds his gaze on the older man, who quickly bid us goodnight and returns to his table across the room.


	16. 16 Josh

I turn my attention back to Donna as I sit back I down. She's looking at me with wide eyes. The look on her face can only be described as complete disbelief.

At that moment, I realize that maybe I should have asked her before I announced that we are on a date to Senator Starkey. And essentially the rest of the District, given that the man is a worse gossip than an old Italian grandmother.

It was terribly presumptuous of me to assume that just because she said yes to the date, and let me kiss the daylights out of her in her apartment, she'd be okay with the rest of the world knowing about the change in our status.

Stupid. We're barely into the date and I'm already blowing it!

She blinks a few times, then covers my hand with hers and pats it gently, her demeanor changing from shocked surprise to melancholy.

"Regretting that announcement? It's okay, I can walk it back for you on Monday. Margaret will help me spread the word that you were just kidding. It won't be that hard for anyone to believe."

Her eyes are down, and she's studying the edge of her napkin. Stupid! Now she thinks that I don't want anyone to know that I'm dating her. That's not it at all.

"Hey." I put my finger under her chin and tilt it up so she's looking me in the eye again. "I want to shout it from the rooftops. The only thing I regret is that I didn't check with you first to see how you felt about letting the news get out. I mean, do you want the world to know that you've lowered your standards and are willing to date a grumpy, rumpled, old politician?"

"You're okay with people knowing?" Her tone is back to one of disbelief, but at least she doesn't sound sad.

"Absolutely."

"What if Leo finds out?"

"He already knows."

"And he's okay with it?"

"We're two consenting adults. He's actually quite happy for us, he hugged me and everything."

"You already saw him in person?!"

"Yeah, he picked my Mom up just before I left. They're going to the Opera tonight. Even if he hadn't been happy about it, he's a smart man. He'd know damn well better than to say anything negative about us in front of Marjorie Lyman. She's practically glowing with smug satisfaction now that we're officially dating."

"Are you sure he's not just placating your Mom?"

"I'm sure. He's got plenty of subtle ways of letting me know when I'm pissing him off."

That gets a grin from her. She's aware of those signals too. Because, it's not that uncommon for me to piss Leo off. As she continues to ponder the conversation, her smile keeps getting bigger. And my heart rate keeps going up. If Donna would just smile at me like this for the rest of my life, I'd die a happy man.

"Wow. So this isn't a secret?"

"Not unless you want it to be."

I really don't want her to think I'm making all the decisions here. This is her life too. And God knows that everything turns out much better when I can make decisions with Donna's input.

"No." She smirks at me, and I see that the banter is about to be back. "I'd like all of DC to know you're off the market. Although, your fan club will go into mourning. They had written me off years ago."

"I'll take out an ad in Roll Call tomorrow." I'm only half joking.

"Okay." She responds with the slightest giggle.

"In the meantime," . . . I lean over and give her a long kiss. It's not nearly as passionate as our first one, but it still leaves me aching for more.

As soon as I pull back from the kiss and see the look on Donna's face, I lean back in, ready for another round. But the rational part of my brain reminds me that, while we aren't hiding anything, we really don't want our picture plastered on wonkette dot com either. So I settle for a light peck on her lips.

Then I lean back and take another drink of my wine. She tilts her head a little, and her eyes have are sparkling. Both are tells that she's about to tease me some more.

"So . . . Leo and your Mom?" Her tone is light-hearted, and her demeanor suggests that she knows that I know that she's just joking, but it's gentle enough that if I was really bothered, I'd feel comfortable talking to her about it seriously.

I don't know when she mastered that technique, but no one else in the world can do it. She's able to ask me almost anything, and give me the choice about whether to turn my answer into the punchline for an inside joke, or spill my guts to her and get the weight of the world off my shoulders. And she's got a practically perfect sense of timing when it comes to using her talent.

In this case, I can just play along with the joke. This doesn't bother me at all. "Don't worry, I won't have to call him Father. They're just old friends."

"Would it bother you if they were more than that?"

For a second, I contemplate whether Donna knows something I don't know. It's not unreasonable to consider the possibility that she does. But not in this case. I'm sure.

"No, it wouldn't bother me. They both deserve to find love. But really, they've been friends a long time. I don't see it happening."

She tilts her head again, but this time it's because she's thinking something over. In a burst of clairvoyance, I think I know what it is.

I lean over and give her another quick peck on the lips. Just because I can. "It's different for us. From the moment I met you, I wanted something more. I know it took me a long time to figure out exactly what, and to be brave enough to ask you out, but it's never been just friendship with us. Has it?"

"No." She breathes out. "It's always been something more."


	17. 17 Donna

My heart soars at the confirmation that Josh and I are on the same page about this. It's official now, I suppose. And there's no going back. Not that I'd ever want to.

It doesn't seem like our first kiss was less than an hour ago. I'm fairly certain I could have been content to just stand in my apartment and kiss him for all of eternity. And if I died now, I'd die happy. But I have to say, I am looking forward to the future!

Dinner is served and the food looks amazing! Honestly, there has been no shortage of incredible meals over the last years with Josh. We've been to fancy restaurants, and state dinners. We've shared countless boxes of Chinese, and endless amounts of pizza. But this has to be one of the best. I'm not sure if it's the food or the atmosphere or the way that Josh is looking at me, but I wouldn't change a single detail.

After dinner is served our waiter brings a chocolate souffle to our table. "Compliments of Chef Dario," the waiter explains when Josh furrows his brow in confusion, "and Leo McGarry."

Josh thanks the waiter and beams at me. Alright, so I suppose Leo _really is_ okay with this. He went to the trouble of ordering our desert in advance and having it sent over. He's a sweet man, and I'm going to be sure to tell him that on Monday, even if he probably doesn't want to hear it. He tries to come across as a gruff old man, but he doesn't have me fooled.

We finish the meal and Josh pays the check before escorting me back to the coat check, then placing his heavy winter coat over my shoulders as we wait for the valet. He touches his lips softly to mine once again as we stand here. I don't think that's ever going to get old for me.

We make our way to the Kennedy Center with plenty of time to spare and join the other guests mingling in the lobby. Josh grabs two flutes of champagne and we are almost immediately greeted by an onslaught of elected officials and cabinet members. It's no surprise to either of us- after all, this _is_ a company town.

Josh greets each of them pleasantly, but with the same general demeanor as Senator Starkey, and though none of them press their agenda with him, I can't help but to notice something about his interactions with each of them.

His hand, wrapped possessively around me and resting on my opposite hip, never moves. "And of course, you know Donna," he remarks to each of them. There's no way for anyone to misinterpret our status this evening. I'm not his assistant tonight. I'm his date. And I can't miss the notes of pride in his voice when he introduces me as such.

"We should get a photo," he suggests, nodding towards the in house photographer taking pictures of guests against a Kennedy Center backdrop.

"We… should?" I'm a little thrown off. I wouldn't mind a photo, it's just that Josh generally tries to avoid such things.

"Of course we should," he practically bounces on the balls of his feet. "I'll have it framed," he smiles, taking my hand. "And show it to the grandkids…" he mutters.

"What?" I stare at him. It's not that I dislike the thought, it's certainly not that, I'm just shocked to hear it escape his lips. You could probably knock me over with a feather right now. It's probably just a bit of hyperbole on his part, but I still can't wipe the smile from my face as he stands with his arms around me and the photographer snaps several photos. We're informed that they'll be available in 10 days, though I'm sure we will have them tomorrow morning when CJ gets a copy of them from a reporter.

I suppose I should warn her, but I'm not going to worry about that now.

They dim the lights and we make our way to our seats. I lean close to Josh and the music begins. It's a beautiful performance, but as much as I'm taking in each note, I can't help but to remain somewhat on edge and watch Josh's reactions from the corner of my eye. We're only a few minutes in when he places one arm around me, pulling me close, and laces our fingers together on my lap with his free hand.

"I'm okay," he whispers softly into my ear. "I promise. And if I'm not, I'll tell you."

I glance over to him and give him a soft smile, squeezing his hand a bit and leaning into him to absorb the music throughout the rest of the performance.


	18. 18 Josh

I see Donna watching me out of the corner of her eye. She hasn't relaxed and let herself fully enjoy the performance, so I wrap an arm around her and take her hand. "I'm okay." I whisper softly, not wanting to disturb anyone else, but wanting to reassure Donna. "I promise. And if I'm not, I'll tell you." I hope she can hear the sincerity in my voice. I won't ever try to keep anything from her again. Besides, with my arm around Donna, and her hand in mine, I really am perfectly fine. Like Stanley said, "We get better."

Once Donna is relaxed, I'm able to enjoy the music too. I've always liked Classical Music. Joanie played it all the time. After she was gone, Mom didn't avoid it. If anything, I think she listened to it even more often because it made her feel connected to her daughter. Of course, music like this creates a sense of melancholy at times, but the key is to know that it's invoking those feelings and allowing myself to experience them without losing control.

It's okay to miss Joanie. And it's okay to wish she were here, and that she could meet Donna. But it's also okay to be happy with Donna and enjoy this experience without Joanie. I don't have to feel guilty about living my life.

The therapy helped me work through my emotions regarding the shooting. Once I stopped stuffing them down, and addressed them, it became less likely that something else would set me off. The key is recognizing how I'm really feeling, in any situation. Right now, I'm incredibly happy and I'm enjoying the performance. I'm not worried at all about hearing sirens.

During intermission Donna excuses herself to go to the ladies room. I know from experience this could take awhile. Not that it's her, it's just that the line is always so freaking long! What do they do in there and can't they go any faster?

As I'm walking around the lobby, Chris Seeger, from _Politico_ , spots me. We make eye contact and she heads my way. Damn. She's nice enough, but I don't really like to talk to reporters. And even though I'm absolutely prepared to go public with this relationship, I'm not _actually_ looking to take an ad out.

"Hey, Josh."

"Hey, Chris."

"So, I'm sorry to do this, but my editor will kill me if I don't. Would you like to confirm a rumor that you are dating your assistant, Donna Moss?"

I look at her a few minutes, trying to decide exactly what to say. I'm tempted to say "I'm not dating my assistant." Because I'm not. I'm dating Donna Moss, an incredible woman, whom I love with all my heart, who happens to be my assistant. But I don't trust a newspaper to recognize and report that nuance. On the other hand, I don't want a denial on the record either. I don't want anyone to think I'm ashamed of dating Donna. If anything, I'm dating up! Finally, I settle on the only statement I'm really comfortable making. I think CJ would approve.

"The White House doesn't comment on the private lives of staffers."

"I'm not asking the White House for a comment. I'm asking you."

"Well, I don't generally comment on the record as a private individual." I pause for a few seconds. Chris is a very good reporter. She's always fair and accurate. So I decide what the hell, and give her a little bit. "Off the record, I won't deny that I'm dating Donna and I'm incredibly happy."

"Well, off the record, on behalf of the entire White House Press Corps, Congratulations! It's about time. And don't worry, I'm not going to go running to my editor with any of this. But he knows I'm here tonight, and when the gossip columnist picks it up, and you know they will, I want to be able to say that I asked and you said no comment."

"Thanks Chris. I appreciate it."

"Sure, have a nice night."

Donna finally comes out of the restroom a few minutes later and we head back to our seats just as the house lights blink. The second half of the concert is every bit as good as the first. But the best part of it is the smile on Donna's face the entire time.

I'm not exactly disappointed when the concert is over. It was outstanding. And I could definitely sit here and stare at Donna all night. And of course, I don't want the night to end. But I'm hopeful that maybe we can continue this date in another location.

As we leave the coat check and wait for the valet, Donna is leaning up against me. It feels right.

"So, do you want to go out for a nightcap?"

"No." She answers softly and I feel my heart drop.

But then she looks at me with smoldering eyes. "But, I would like for you to come back to my place for coffee . . . or something."

Oh my god. I hope she means what I think she means.


	19. 19 Donna

"But, I would like for you to come back to my place for coffee… or something."

His eyes go wide. For as much grief as he gets about having a fan club, he's anything but a ladies man. I find his nervousness refreshing because, God, my butterflies are back. My heart rate speeds up just thinking about this.

"Alright," he seems to find his words. "I could go for coffee… or something." He smiles and perks up a bit as his car arrives. He opens the door for me and offers his hand as I step inside.

I find my courage and move my hand over to rest on his thigh. It's nothing crass, but more of a simple show of affection. I know he's trying to be a gentleman this evening, and I appreciate that immensely, but I don't want him to second guess my intent.

We drive in relative silence, except for the soft music from the radio. I'm content to simply be in his presence, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Josh doesn't feel the need to make small talk either.

I catch him trying to steal subtle glances at me as his car makes his way back towards my place. He looks as eager as I feel.

I'm not typically the type of girl that invites a man back to her place after a first date, but this is no ordinary man. And though it may be true that this is the first time we've officially gone out, it hardly counts as a first date.

I mean, we've gone to fancy dinners, with heads of state. And we've eaten more rubber chicken fundraiser dinners than I care to remember. We've even shared popcorn while watching a movie.

But besides all of that, we've been doing life together for the last 6 years. There's just one way left to know him. And I'm totally ready for that step.

We arrive on my block and Josh parks in closest spot he can find at this time of night. As we step out onto the quiet street, it seems as though the city is at peace. It's just started to snow, and under the full moon and the twinkle of Christmas lights lining the roofs of several buildings.

I lift my dress slightly with one hand to prevent the silk from dragging through the snow and salt, and Josh gently places one hand on the small of my back and walks in step with me. Years of navigating narrow corridors in perfect synchronization and never missing a beat in our working rhythm does bode well for things to come tonight.

I pull out my purse to find my keys but Josh pulls his own set out of his pocket before I let go of his hand, placing my spare into the lock and letting us inside.

I slip out of his coat and and hang it by the door before turning and giving him a quick kiss. "Make yourself comfortable," I tell him, giving his bowtie a tug so that the fabric comes untied and falls open around his neck. His eyebrows pop up at my sudden move.

Man, he's sexy like that. I'm so turned on.

It takes him a beat to get his bearings again. I'm usually not this forward, and if he's thrown off by my bold nature this evening, he's not the only one.

I need a moment to re-group. I don't want to come across too aggressive. So I make my way into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee, pulling two mugs from the cabinet. I prepare his with equal parts cream and a boatload of sugar and mine with a pinch of sweetner before turning off the overhead light and carrying them into the living room.

He's standing in front of the window, staring out onto the city street below, the soft twinkle of my Christmas tree lights illuminating his face.

"Thank you," he tells me as I had him the mug, taking a sip. He sets it down on the wide sill of the window and gently places my mug, which I'm only using to warm my hands at this point, beside it.

He pulls me in close and presses his forehead to mine, simply holding me for a moment. My arms drape around him in response and my fingers find their way to the nape of his neck and play with the loose curls at his collar. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and I close my eyes, just trying to take this all in. To absorb these few minutes with him so I'll be able to carry them with me forever. I'm quite sure that this is the most intimate moment of my life.

"Donnatella," he speaks softly, his voice raw and completely vulnerable, causing my eyes to flutter open and meet his, the unhindered emotion immediately visible to me. "I'm in love with you."

My heart soars with his admission. This night, and this man, are everything I've ever dreamed of but never dared hope for.

My hand moves to cup his cheek, my thumb gently sweeping back and forth. "Oh, Joshua," I begin, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I'm in love with you, too."


	20. 20 Josh

My heart pounds in my ears until Donna puts her hand on my cheek, caressing my face. "Oh, Joshua, I'm in love with you too."

And there it is. The only thing that matters in the whole world. I'm in love with Donnatella Moss, and she loves me back. From this moment on, nothing will ever be the same.

I lean forward and capture her lips with my own. As soon as they touch, Donna melts into me. There's no other way to describe it. Her body is flush with mine. It feels incredible. I wrap one arm securely around her waist, holding her as close as possible. I don't ever want to let go.

My other hand threads through her hair to cup the back of her head, possessively. She's finally mine!

I thought our first kiss was passionate, but it was nothing compared to this. I need to kiss her more than I need to breathe.

She's becoming more aggressive too. Nipping at my lips in between sucking them into her mouth. Her tongue pushes against mine, trying to go deeper, trying to taste more.

Her hands are griping my ass like she has no intention of ever letting me go either. She's pulling me even closer, like she's trying to merge us together. I'm all for that.

But this doesn't feel like a competition. Neither of us is trying to outdo the other. There's no pretense or posturing in the way we are making out. We just can't get enough. Not close enough, not deep enough, not fast enough.

Donna finally lets go off my ass, and leans back a little. Her hair is mussed, and her lips are swollen. God, it's sexy. Her hands push my jacket off of my shoulders, then find the buttons of my shirt, frantically undoing them and pulling the tails out of the waistband so that she can slide under and touch skin.

And when she does it, my skin feels like it's been shocked. To have her hands on me, knowing what's coming. I can hardly contain myself. I stand still for just a few moments, enjoying her unexpected boldness.

Finally, I pull away and spin her around, looking for the zipper at the back of the dress. I'm just enough of a gentleman to remember to ask permission first. So once I've found it, I pause, fingers on the tab.

"May I?"

"God, yes! Please!" She cries out. And that's all the encouragement I need.

I slide the zipper down the length of her spine, then slowly pull apart the dress to reveal the expanse of her alabaster skin. I place gentle kisses on each vertebra, taking a moment to slow down and regain my bearings. I'm not a randy teenager looking for a quick release. I'm a grown man, about to take the next step of intimacy with the only woman I'll ever want for the rest of my life. It may not be the first time for either of us, but it is our first time together. I want it to be special.

I turn Donna back around to face me, then take her face gently in my hands again, kissing her slowly and thoroughly.

When I stop we are both breathing heavy, but it's measured, and full of anticipation rather than unbridled urgency.

I lean in and kiss her neck, just under her earlobe, softly, as I move one strap off her shoulder and anoint the newly exposed skin with more kisses, then I move to the other side and do the same thing.

The dress is starting to slip down her body. If she moves her arms, it will fall at her feet. I look into her eyes, urging her, without words, to let go and trust me to take care of her. She smiles softly at me and does.

The dress slides down her body and pools at her feet.

I inhale deeply, and look away from her eyes, down her neck, and get my first glimpse of her mostly naked body. She's magnificent. She absolutely takes my breath away.

Donna smiles shyly, then steps the rest of the way out of the dress and picks it up. She lays it across the couch, then takes my hand, and, clad only in black lace underwear and high heels, leads me to her bedroom.

I follow along, my heart pounding away. I've never wanted anything more than this. I love this woman with every fiber of my being.


	21. 21 Donna

I take Josh's hand and lead him to my bedroom, hoping that I exude more confidence than I feel. I'm sure about this; there's nothing that I want more than to share this with him. I'm just a little nervous. I know that this is the real thing, it's not a fling for either of us, and I trust Josh implicitly. But somehow, it still seems incredibly important that this first time be perfect.

Normally, I wouldn't take the lead. And I'm a little surprised that Josh let me. But for all of his power and all of his ego, he was hesitant. He seemed to be somewhat unsure of himself. So, I got us to this point.

But now that we're in my bedroom, and I'm facing him, studying his his eyes in the residual light that is peeking in through the curtains. And I can see that something has changed. The uncertainty is gone.

Josh is back in charge.

His gaze flicks over me quickly and the pads of his fingers run down the side of my body with a featherlight touch. Every fiber of my being reacts. And I feel him, even in the places that he's yet to touch. I let out a shaky breath, a little overwhelmed at his intense scrutiny. Then, after only a moment, he leans in again, to capture my lips once more.

As we are kissing, I run my fingers across the waist of his pants, barely skimming the inside until I reach the clasp, undoing it with precision. I can tell immediately that he's as ready for this as I am.

Something shifts between us and our tentative explorations become more intense. I can feel him rid himself of his shoes, as I work on removing his pants.

"Is this okay," he asks once more, needing to hear my consent again. "We don't have to-"

I understand that we're knocking on the door of no returns, and I appreciate that he's making sure that I'm completely willing, but I quickly cut off his suggestion. I have no reservations about any of this, or about him.

"Yes," I whisper into his ear, pressing my body against his to drive home my point. "It's okay with me. Is it okay with you? Are _you_ having second thoughts?"

I can feel him smile against me and nod. "Oh, baby, It's more than okay," he tells me. He bends down a little and literally sweeps me off of my feet, takes the few steps to my bed and drops me on it. It's like something from a movie.

The sheer cheekiness of the move, throws me out of the mood for the moment and I giggle. Then I realize something else.

"Wait," I give him a little smile and he stops. "Did you just call me baby?"

"I, uh…" he takes a moment, trying to find the words. I'm amused to no end.

"You know what?" he finally states assertively. "I like it, alright? And It's staying. Okay, baby?"

I can't help to smile. "Okay."

"Okay?" Now he seems surprised. I think he was under the impression that I'd put up a fight.

"Okay." I'm resolute in my statement, and I wrap my arms around his neck as he continues to hold me. "But I get to pick a pet name for you, too."

Before he has a chance to protest. I press myself upward for another kiss. The bit of levity helped remind me who we are, but I don't want any more delays. We've waited far too long for this night.

"Joshua," I whisper softly, "make love to me."

And he does.


	22. 22 Josh

I'm laying on my back, hands behind my head staring up at the ceiling in post-coital bliss. I have no doubt that I have a shit-eating grin on my face right now. I'd like to say something profound to Donna about what just happened. To explain that I'm in this for the long haul, that this wasn't just sex, and that I know my life will never be the same, and that I want her on this journey with me for the rest of my life, and that I'll be a good provider for our family.

I _want_ to say something that will make her understand the depth of my feelings, and assure her of my love. But I'm having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. I get flashes of words but they flit away before I can hold on to them.

I'm also getting flashes of images, including Donna in a white gown, Donna and I holding a little bundle wrapped in pink, and one of a small, blonde boy catching a ball. I want to tell Donna about these images, but I don't want to freak her out. Instead, I spend a second wondering what we should name the kids. Isabella is pretty.

Finally, if feels like my brain might be functional again.

"Is that mistletoe?" Great, after all those thoughts, the first cognitive sentence that pops out of my mouth is about the decor in her room. Brilliant. But really, is it?

Donna giggles. "Yes."

"Over the bed?" I can't help but to raise an eyebrow as I look over towards her.

"I was hoping to get lucky tonight."

"If we made it into your bedroom, weren't your chances already pretty good at that point?"

"I suppose." She pauses for a minute and props herself up on one elbow to look at me. She's suddenly serious.

"Would it be weird if I invited you to come home with me for Christmas? Is that too fast? Would it scare you away?"

"Donna, I just seduced you on our first date, and I've just been laying here thinking up pretty Italian names for little girls."

"I'll take that as a no on the speed question." She grins. "So. . . . do you _want_ to come home with me and spend Christmas with my crazy, Republican family?"

"Yes. I do."

I've teased her a little about her family over the years, but I really do want to come home with her. I want to be part of every part of her life. I want to see where she grew up. I want to look through old photo albums. I want to listen to her brother try to embarrass her by telling me old stories about her. I want her parents to know me as more than her overly demanding boss.

I'm enjoying just the thought of going home with her when Donna interrupts my thoughts by running a hand up and down my scar. Having someone touch that part of me has never felt good. Until now.

"And by the way, I seduced you." She offers in a husky voice, with just a touch of sass. I can't let that lay.

"No... I think you're wrong about that. I'm quite certain, that I seduced you."

"I think you're getting kind of old. Your memory must be going. I definitely seduced you."

"No, I'm older and wiser, and I'm telling you. I seduced you."

"Well then," she rolls over on top of me. "It's my turn."


	23. 23 Donna

"We're here," Josh beams at me.

"Yes, the Madison Airport. Eighth wonder of the world," I snark.

"You're not really in the Christmas spirit over there, are you?"

"We've been up since 4am and an infant just screamed through our entire flight, Josh. Forgive me if I'm not exactly Merry and Bright just yet."

He leans in and kisses me with a stupid grin on his face, grabs my hand, and starts walking through the terminal at a leisurely pace. What in the hell just happened? I'm completely shocked by the role reversal.

He stops at a coffee stand and orders me a peppermint mocha, telling me I'll feel a little more in the spirit if I just sit down on one of the benches and drink it. "I'll grab the bags and then we'll call a cab," he tells me ready to head off.

"Call a cab?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "Josh, my parents are on the other side of security waiting to pick us up."

"Even better," he announces before his face changes to a slightly worried look. "Do you think your parents want a coffee too?"

"No," I smile. "I'm sure they had a cup before they left the house."

We descend to the first floor on an escalator, my parents waiting happily for us at baggage claim. My dad is dressed in his heaviest winter coat while my mom is wearing a white sweater with a large reindeer on the front of it and blinking Christmas light earrings. I hope Josh is ready for this.

My mom waives and rushes over to us, giving me a big hug and a kiss hello. I squeeze her back. It's so good to see her. She does the same to Josh, doting over how nice he looks in his jeans and navy blue sweater. This gets a smile out of me, too. He does look nice, there's no denying that.

"Bob, don't the kids look so nice," she gushes to my father, her arm still around Josh's.

Josh is grinning at her, but gives a serious face when he extends his hand to shake my father's. I think he's been a little bit nervous about this trip, and about what my family would think of the two of us as a couple. Little does he know that my mom probably reserved a banquet hall as soon as I told her I was bringing Josh home for Christmas.

Josh and Dad grab our bags and we're on the road in no time. Mom and I are going on and on about everything we're going to do today and the list is fairly long. We're baking cookies, finalizing some gift wrapping for my nieces and nephews and, of course, watching White Christmas and attending midnight candlelight service at church. It's all Moss family tradition.

She's catching me up on some local news when her train of thought goes 180 degrees the opposite way. I roll my eyes at her signature style of speaking. I'm so glad I didn't inherit that trait.

"Bob, swing into the Pick'N'Save. I need to pick up a few last minute items for dinner." She doesn't even wait for a response before she swings back around in her seat. "Josh? We're having a roast chicken for dinner. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Josh replies quickly.

My mother practically gushes. I'm quickly learning that all Moss women are susceptible to the charms of Josh Lyman.

"Bob, did you hear that," my mother beams and taps my father on the arm. "He called me ma'am. Just like the first lady."

My father glances over from the road out of the side of his eye but, wisely, makes no direct response to that comment. "Which Pick'N'Save are we going to, Sandy?" he instead asks for clarification. My mother gives him a detailed answer and then turns around once again.

"You can just call us Mom and Dad," she rattles off as though it's the most casual thing in the world.

The Peppermint Mocha burns as I try to keep it from snorting out of my nose.

"Thanks, Mom," Josh responds sweetly.

Dad pulls the car into a parking spot and Mom grabs her list. "Come on, Donnatella. We only need a few things."

I give Josh a quick glance and he nods slightly, assuring me he will be fine while I'm gone.

"So, Robert, good year for the Packers," I hear him begin before I close the car door.

I grin. Smart man. There's a reason he's a master politician.

Mom and I make the rounds in the crowded store, saying hello to a dozen people I haven't seen in years. As it turns out, the only things that Mom needed were green onions and 3 types of cheeses. I'm never going to hear the end of this from Josh.

Once we're back to my parent's condo, I give Josh a quick tour.

"Bobby's old room is in the basement," I point towards the door that leads to the stairs. "And Dad's study is down there, too. Kitchen is around the corner, that's the powder room" I point, "And obviously this is the living room." I look around, eyeing the massive tree, snow village and 14 stockings crowded over the fireplace.

"Anyway," I continue, "we're up here." I head for the garland wrapped staircase and Josh follows me with the bags. "Mom and Dad are down there, at the end of the hall," I gesture towards their closed door and attempt to speed by a few particularly awful photos on the wall from my 7th grade year but Josh doesn't miss a thing. Wisely, he also proceeds to say only that I am beautiful to him and nothing more. I swoon a bit at his sincerity. "This is Frannie's room, the bathroom, and…" I open the door, wishing I would have completely remodeled last summer when I came home for my parent's anniversary party.

I step inside and see the corners of Josh's mouth quirking up on the sides as he tries not to smile.

"This is your room?" He asks, obviously just trying to say something.

"Yes…" I respond, raising my eyebrow at him.

"And you lived here until you were eighteen," he confirms.

"Twenty..." I mumble.

"It's nice," he clears his throat. "I especially like the princess canopy bed and all of the marching band memorabilia." I can tell he's biting his tongue.

"You wanted to be a ballerina," I remind him, giving him a tiny pinch as I banter back.

"I was five," Josh defends.

"Okay, well, now you're 40, and yet you still wear your boxers with rubber duckies on them when you need important legislation to pass."

"Hey!" He fakes offense. "Those are my lucky duck boxers! You don't get to mock those."

I roll my eyes at him, but he grabs my hand and pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around me. "Thank you for bringing me with you," he whispers, kissing my temple. "Thank you for sharing this part of your life with me."

My arms snake around him too and I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes and just breathing. It's still a bit surreal that he's here right now, but our moment has arrived. There's no other person on earth I'd want to share my life with.

We eventually pull ourselves away from one another and I unzip my suitcase, pulling out the garment bag that contains the dress I'll wear to church this evening as well as Josh's suit.

"You're _sure_ it's okay for me to stay in here?" He's somewhat hesitant as he sits on the side of the bed, his eyes still wandering the room.

"It's really okay, Josh," I assure him. And it is. My parents aren't the type to get worked up about sleeping arrangements. "Unless you'd rather sleep alone…" I tease.

"No!" His eyes grow wide. "Don't even joke about that."

I lean down and give him a quick peck on the lips and extend my hand to him. "Come on, duck boy. Lunch is probably ready."

Josh pops into the powder room as soon as we reach the bottom of the stairs and I join my mother in the kitchen as she takes a loaf of beer bread from the stove and places it on the table next to a salad. I grab the plates and pour four drinks.

"Let your father know lunch is ready," she tells me and I peek my head into the doorway of the basement stairs to yell for Dad.

I bump into Josh on the way back, who is still carefully examining the excessive amount of Christmas decor placed carefully around the house.

"I feel like I'm in a winter wonderland," he whispers. "The soap is even shaped like little snowmen."

"You didn't wash your hands with them, did you?" God help him if he did. My Mom will have a conniption fit.

"Um, yes?"

"Those are meant to be decorative!" I whisper yell.

"They're soap!"

"They're for guests!"

"Aren't I a guest?"

"NO!"

His confusion turns into a genuine smile. "Really?"

"She told you to call her Mom, didn't she? And now, you're gonna get in trouble, cuz I'm _telling_!" Just as I'm about to call out to her, Josh pulls me close. "I can think of a better use for that mouth." He quips before planting a major kiss on me.

Dad comes up from the basement and catches us in the act. "Get a room," he grumbles without any heat as he shuffles by.

Josh turns about 30 shades of red as I start to cackle. "First the soap, now this. You're off to a good start."

I smile as I head into the dining room, Josh hot on my trail and clearly not sure whether I'm about to rat him out to Mom.

He shoots me a pleading look as we take our places at the table. While Mom carries in a large crock, I lean over and whisper in his ear. "Okay, I won't tell, but you owe me one."

Mom puts the pot on a trivet, as Josh politely places his napkin in his lap, then looks over towards the large, lidded dish. "Something smells amazing," he remarks with sincerity. "What is it?"

My mom grins as she removes the lid. "My famous cheese soup!"

Josh's eyes go wide, and I swear, I see actual pain on his face as he forces himself not to laugh. I reach over and squeeze his leg, trying to will him to keep it together. He blinks twice, and I see something shift in his eyes. Instantly, he's in control of himself. For all his goofiness he IS a brilliant political operative. I'm not sure how I feel about him using that skill at our family dinner, but I guess it's just part of who he is, and I didn't want him to laugh.

But once he tries the soup, the facade disappears. "This is really good, Mrs. Moss!"

"Mom." She gently corrects him.

"It's really good, Mom. I've never had cheese soup before."

"Well, the secret is using the right kind of beer."

"There's beer in here?!"

"Yes."

"God, I love you people."

At that, my parents burst into laughter, and the rest of the meal proceeds in good cheer.

We all help my mother clear the table before my father announces that 'the game' is about to start and heads back downstairs.

"Josh. . . why don't you join me?"

Josh gives me a kiss on the cheek and then follows my father down the stairs.

"So," my mother begins as we load the dishwasher. "You were rather vague on the phone. When did this all begin?"

She's grinning from ear to ear. I can tell she's been itching for details since we arrived.

I can't help but smile, too. I find myself doing that a lot lately. "It's… new. But it's…"

"Perfect?" She supplies.

My smile widens even further. "Yes." I've never described a relationship with that word before but there really is no other word for it.

Over the years, I confided in my mother about most things, though I've never been so bold as to tell her that I was in love with my boss. But, I think she suspected. Maybe it was obvious?

I gush to her for a few moments. I just can't help it. This week has been amazing, and although I keep many of the details tucked away for only Josh and I, I give her the broad overview. Even that is liberating. Our relationship isn't a secret, but I still haven't been able to share my joy with anyone until this moment.

She dries her hands on a towel and wraps me in a warm hug. "I'm so happy for you, Donna." She's practically bursting. "I have something that I think you need," she adds, leading me to the hall closet.

I follow her and watch closely as she carefully removes a small ornament storage box and places it into my hand. I know what it is without even having to look, and I feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

"Grandma's ornaments." I whisper as she nods.

I open the box and pull out the delicate snowflake that matches the one on the tree with my name on it.

"Something tells me you're going to need this by next year. Aren't you?"

My grandmother started this tradition when her children were born, purchasing each of them two ornaments, one for her child and one for their future spouse. She continued with each of the grandchildren, choosing a different theme for each generation. She's gone now, and this is the last of the ornaments that she purchased.

"He's the one. Isn't he?"

All I can do is nod. I have no doubts.


	24. 24 Josh

The midnight candlelight service was a lovely way to end the evening last night. The church was decorated tastefully with poinsettias and evergreens. The carols were familiar, and the choir sang beautifully. The message was simple. About loving our fellow man. I'm pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I guess that's a good thing, because if things go my way, there will be a lot more of these in my future.

And it looks like things might be going my way. I really wasn't sure how Bob would react when I told him of my plans. I was a little nervous when he summoned me to the basement to watch football. I know how to read people, and I could tell there was more on his mind than a game. I mean, he could really hate me. We both know that it's my fault that his little girl moved away from Wisconsin. And Donna has canceled trips home more than once on my account.

He may be a Republican, but I'll say this about the man, he's a good listener. We sat in his office and he heard me out. I told him how I feel about Donna, and I explained my vision for us. I told him that I respect the fact that she's his little girl, and I want to be upfront with him because of that. But ultimately what comes next is up to Donna. And I know she's got a mind of her own.

He'd laughed at that. "She sure does! Hope you know what you're getting into." I don't know if that was meant to scare me off, but it didn't work.

I'm all in. Every part of Donna's life. I can't wait to get up and go downstairs and experience Christmas with her family.

But first I need to wake up sleeping beauty next to me. I roll onto my side and just stare at her a few minutes, studying the length of her eyelashes resting against her cheek, and the number of very faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. The shape of those lips that beckon to be kissed. The softness of her hair, fanned out against the pillow. I can't think of a better way to wake up, and hopefully, I'll never wake up alone again.

The fact that I haven't for the last five days speaks volumes about how different this is from every other relationship. In the past, I barely made it over night. Often arriving late in the evening and leaving very early in the morning, with absolutely no desire to cohabitate.

But with Donna, I could lay in bed all day. The only thing that got me out of bed on Sunday morning was guilt over the fact that I'd left my Mother home alone, and that I probably should spend more time with her.

Of course, Mom was genuinely pleased that I had spent the night with Donna. And simply insisted that when we were ready, Donna and I could take her to brunch. The three of us had a lovely afternoon, and once we saw Mom off at the airport, Donna said, "Swing by my apartment so I can get some clothes for work tomorrow." And that was that. No need to stammer and stutter an invitation. Although I did tease her a little about being presumptuous. But Donna just snarked right back at me, "I'm just with you for your bed. It's much nicer than mine."

We'd had a good laugh, but I was delighted when Donna packed her bag for Wisconsin and another with enough clothes for the two days at work before we left. "Not letting me out of your sight?" I'd teased. "Not a chance," she replied without missing a beat.

And here we are, already as comfortable with each other as an old married couple.

Donna's eyelids flutter open, and when she sees me staring, she breaks out into a grin. I lean down and give her a passionate kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Donnatella. To you and to your whole protestant family!"

"Mmmmmm, that was nice. But I'd like to keep that greeting just to myself." Donna laughs. It's so nice to see her like this. Relaxed, light-hearted, _joyful._

"Merry Christmas?" She offers a little tentatively. And it occurs to me that she's never said it to me before. I think she's always been really careful to respect my faith.

"Is that alright? Since we already celebrated Hanukkah? Or should I say Happy Holidays? My parents are probably going to ask me what to say too."

"Merry Christmas is fine. That's what we're celebrating today. I might not have the same beliefs, but I'm sharing your holiday with you, I'm certainly not going to be offended. But it's sweet of you to ask."

She gives me a return kiss that is just as passionate as the one I gave her. "Merry Christmas, Joshua."

"That was nice. I think we started our own little Christmas tradition there. . . . So, what now? Do we need to get up and run downstairs and open presents?"

"No. I outgrew that a long time ago, and the kids won't be here until later. Mom probably has a bowl of fruit and some danish or something for whenever we make it downstairs. She's not going to make some huge breakfast or anything."

"So what you're saying is that I have time to unwrap this?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows as I fiddle with the buttons on her pajamas.

"Yes. That's what I'm saying."

Later, when she's buttoning the pajama top back up, she smirks at me. "See, I told you that you'd like them."

She's right, of course. I had a good laugh when she had added red plaid Christmas pajamas to my suitcase. Since we've been together, we've pretty much slept in the buff, which is what I prefer. But she said that we'd need pjs for visiting the folks.

Now that I know that Donna's room doesn't have it's own bathroom, I understand why We need something so we're decent for any trips down the hall. And I can't say that I mind, because I'm just using the bottoms with a t-shirt, while Donna's using the top. And seeing her in my pajama top and nothing else is a huge turn on.

Once we've had a shower, and gotten dressed, we make our way downstairs. We find Donna's parents sitting in the living room sipping coffee and eating danish, so we grab some food and join them.

Donna's Mom beams at me. I'm really a little amazed at how welcome she's made me feel. I don't know why, but I just always supposed that we'd be too different to get along. But I shouldn't have doubted that the people who raised Donna would be warm, loving and friendly. Even if they are Republicans!

"Oh good. You're awake." We've barely sat down before she walks over to the tree and pulls out a couple of packages and brings them over to us. Given the way they've been treating me, I guess I'm not surprised that one of them has my name on it.

I wait while Donna opens hers first. She gasps as she pulls out a bright blue cashmere sweater. I can't help but grin as she rubs it against her cheek. It's already making her eyes pop. Gorgeous.

"Thanks, Mom. I love it!" Donna jumps up and hugs her Mom.

"You're welcome, honey."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Mmm-hmm." He responds noncommittally, but he smiles as Donna hugs him as well. "That's not really your present from me, you know. I want you to get new tires on your car. I'm going to pay for them."

Her car needs new tires? Why didn't she tell me? I wonder how long they've been bad? I'm going to have to start paying better attention to that. Maybe that's why she doesn't drive very often. Maybe I should just get her a new car. Or maybe she'll move in with me and we can both just use mine.

"Your turn, Josh." Sandy prods me out of my thoughts, and I tear into the paper. I don't really need anything, but I'm genuinely curious to see what they got me. When I get the lid off, I stare down into the box, stunned. I have no idea what to say.

A red tie covered with elephants. I lift it out and examine it for a few moments trying to figure out if there's any way I'm misinterpreting the pattern. No. Those really are elephants. I love Donna and I'm starting to love her parents. But what the hell am I supposed to do with this?

I look up into their faces and see their smiles of anticipation and try to figure out an appropriate response.

Finally, Bob loses it and snickers loudly. Then Donna and Sandy burst into laughter too.

"Dad! You're the worst! You couldn't even go few minutes. . . ."

"It's a joke?" I ask a little dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, we just couldn't resist." Sandy chortles. "Donna said you have a good sense of humor."

"Oh she did, did she?"

I reach over and start to tickle her until she apologizes. "I'm sorry! But the look on your face was totally worth it! I wish I had a video."

"You know I'm gonna get you back."

"I know." She continues to giggle. Eventually, I remember that we are being observed and turn back to her parents, who are both watching us with self satisfied smiles. I can't help but wonder if I just passed some sort of test.

"Good one." I tell them.

Sandy retrieves another package from the tree and hands it to me. Donna has a sly little smile as I tear into the paper. I can't help but grin when I open the lid of the box and see the exact half-zip polar fleece pull-over that I had circled in the catalog as a joke. Somehow she always does get the last laugh.

"Thank you very much! I like the polar fleece."

"I got you something too." I walk over to the mantle and grab the envelope that I left there when I put Donna's gifts for her family under the tree.

When I sit back down, Donna looks at me in surprise. She doesn't know about this. Her Mom opens the envelope and reads the certificate that I printed out myself.

"Josh! That's too much!" Sandy protests, but she's smiling as she hands the paper over to Bob.

"Airfare & Accomodations in Washington DC on a weekend of our choice. Well. That's very nice. Thank you."

"I know you don't get to see enough of Donna. I hope you'll come visit us soon."

Sandy gets up and places a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you."

Donna takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I think I've managed to please everyone.

"Well, my gifts aren't going to be as nice as that." Donna groans a little, but she's still smiling as she hands matching boxes to her parents. They ooooh and aaaahh as they open them and they both thank her for their new hats, but Donna's right. My gift is better.

Donna picks up her mug and snuggles in close to me. She and her Mom ramble on a little about all manner of things. They jump from topic to topic. One minute it's local gossip about people Donna grew up with, and the next it's expressing concern about the return of the missionaries from the Sudan, then they shift to talking about a sale at Sandy's favorite store, then whether or not they should wait until Spring to visit Washington so they can see the cherry blossoms. It's slightly dizzying to listen to them, but also sort of enjoyable. And when I look away from Donna for a moment, I see that her Dad is half-listening to them as well, with a slight smile on his face. He catches my eye and gives me a little smirk, clearly welcoming me to the club of people that love the Moss women.

A little while later, the front door opens and the scene suddenly goes from small and intimate, to large and bustling. Donna's brother, Robert Jr., and sister, Francesca, and their spouses and all their children pour into the room, shouting out greetings and doling out hugs and kisses, and adding gifts to under the tree.

I'm introduced to everyone. They all match Donna's descriptions so I'm pretty sure I've got everyone down. Even the kids. Three of whom immediately join us on the couch. Bobby's son Trey squeezes in next to Donna, while his sister, Lexi, climbs up on her lap. Before I know it, Fran's oldest, Sophia, has made herself comfortable on _my_ lap, and is given me a thorough examination.

"I like your hair." She states matter-of-factly as she pats the top of my head, "It's very fluffy."

"Thank you."

"Your eyes are nice too. They're a good color of brown. Kind of like Hershey's kisses, not like dog poop."

"Um, well, thank you _very_ much." I look over to Donna for help, but she's just barely holding it together.

Then Sophia leans in and sniffs me. "Yeah, you don't smell too bad either. Joey in my class smells bad." She turns to Donna. "Mom was right. You did a good job."

"Sophia!" Fran hangs her head in embarrassment, having finally heard the last bit of Sophia's commentary. That causes Donna to lose it and start giggling uncontrollably.

"Well, I think we'd better open presents!" Sandy suggests, saving us all.

The next 30 minutes is a blur.

Watching the kids open gifts is a whole new experience. At first, it looks like there is going to be a process. Donna's Mom passes them out so that each of us has a few gifts in front of us, and it seemed like we were going to take turns. But what happens next involves a flurry of activity, a lot of shouted thank yous, and scraps of wrapping paper everywhere.

Nothing extravagant was exchanged but everyone seems to like the clothes, books and toys they received. I even got a thank you kiss on the cheek from Sophia, although, truth-be-told, I had nothing to do with the purple plastic purse and lip gloss that Donna had given her.

After the gifts, I find myself caught up in the tide as the crew all flows into the kitchen and dining room. It seems like pure chaos, but within a few minutes everyone is seated and the table is covered with food. Just as fast, the meal is over and we're all clearing the table. My head is spinning a little. I've never been part of a big, noisy family. But there's just so much love here. I'm enjoying myself completely.

"It's cookie time, Uncle Josh! Sit next to me!" Sophia announces tugging on my hand. Donna's eyes bug out a little at the title. But I just smile at her. I'm okay with it if she is.


	25. 25 Donna

As I watch Josh settle in next to Sophia, I realize that it's safe to say that none of the Moss women are immune to his charm. Fran was pressing me for details about our relationship as we cleaned up from dinner, and I think she's as giddy as my mother at the prospect of Josh joining the family.

I'm thrilled that they feel that way, but I warned them that they should both take it down a notch. I'm happy with how things are going between Josh & I. It seems to be moving quickly, but it couldn't possibly be going any better. So I don't want my family making presumptions about our future and making him feel uncomfortable.

As I slide in on the other side of him, Josh reaches under the table and lovingly places his hand on my leg and gives me a small squeeze. I'm not sure if he's comforting me or himself. But either way, it works for me. I'm happy to have the contact.

"Are you ready for this? Because I'm an expert cookie decorator," I banter, letting him know that my family tends to be a little competitive about who has the best cookie.

"Perhaps. But I have a secret weapon," he bats back with a smile. "Don't I, Sophia?"

"I'm showing him how, Aunt Donna," Sophia informs me with enthusiasm as my mother places a tray of piping bags in front of us, each filled with a different colored icing.

Josh picks up a sugar cookie shaped like a duck and a bag of yellow icing, making his best effort to shine at this activity. The icing comes out a little faster than he expects and he ends up with a glob of icing on half of the cookie. He's largely unphased but Sophia wrinkles her nose in disapproval as she watches. He grabs a shaker bottle and covers the half finished duck in blue sprinkles, finishing him off with an M&M for an eye.

"Maybe I'll stick to corralling Congress," he whispers to me as I expertly dust my snowman cookie with silver colored sugar.

"It's okay," Sophia assures him. "I think it's beautiful," she adds with absolute conviction. Yeah, she's got it bad. "And you can make another one."

"See my camel?" Trey announces. It's absolutely hideous. But for a four year old it's quite good. I love it.

"Great job, buddy."

The kids are cranking out crazy variations of animals. Orange polar bears, pink kangaroos. All with as many sprinkles as you could possibly fit on one cookie.

"Here. I made this one special for you." Sophia offers something completely unrecognizable to Josh.

"Thank you, Sophia," he tells her as he takes a bite of her masterpiece. "These are really good," he whispers to me. "Why doesn't your Mom mail us this kind of cookie instead of the kind that practically break my teeth?"

Bobby, seated to my right, can't help but to laugh. "Those are meant to be dipped in coffee. They're called Italian Wedding Cookies. And they're Mom's not-so-subtle way of sending a message."

I guess I should have told Bobby to take it down a notch too. It's miraculous to me that Josh hasn't run screaming back to DC over the last 2 days, but he actually seems to be enjoying himself and doesn't seem to be bothered by the good natured ribbing about our future.

"Come on, man," Bobby stands. "Let's get a beer."

Josh glances over to me and I give a subtle nod of approval. He learned long ago to check with me before his sensitive system takes over.

"Oh yeah," Bobby chuckles, clapping him on the back. "You've got it bad."

Josh just shrugs, then leans down and kisses my cheek before following my brother from the room.

I remain where I am, continuing to decorate cookies with the rest of the family. Eventually, Fran's little one, James, warms up to me and climbs onto my lap. I haven't spent much time with him over the last two years, so I'm very happy to hold him and help him decorate a penguin as I chat with my sister and listen to the rest of the kids converse excitedly with one another.

When Josh and Bobby come back into the room, Sophia is quick to react.

"Want another cookie, Uncle Josh?" She asks, reaching for the tray.

"No, that's okay," he tells her gently and I turn to look at him, wondering if something is suddenly wrong. He's usually pretty quick to take a treat if he likes them. I hope Bobby didn't say something offensive, or get into a heated political debate with Josh.

But they both are still smiling. Josh hands me a napkin to wipe my hands. "Aunt Donna and I are going to go on a walk, but we'll be back later to try a few more of these," he gestures towards the plate of cookies where Sophia is sitting.

I stand and follow him to the door. He holds my coat as I slip into it and then kisses me softly as he buttons the jacket for me. Little actions such as this, everyday tasks that seem otherwise meaningless, all of the sudden carry a new level of intimacy. I pull on a winter hat and he grins at me.

"You look so cute," he whispers in a way that makes me blush.

Josh and I have a good time, walking through the neighborhood, hand in hand, looking at all the lights. Josh immediately senses that there is competition among our neighbors to see who has the most Christmas spirit, and he's more than willing to judge them. As we walk, he provides a running commentary of the results. He awards them a score based on amount, placement and overall aesthetics. But he seems to like the gaudy displays as much as the tasteful ones.

"OH! Can we get some of those?!" He stops to admire the Karpinsky's over the top display that includes an inflatable Santa in a sleigh being pulled by eight reindeer, as well as a large globe complete with falling snow.

"We both have apartments."

"Right." He pauses for a second.

"Maybe someday." I offer, squeezing my hand as we begin walking again, and he gives me a dimpled grin.

"I give it a 10 out of 10." He announces.

"So, you actually like the Karpinsky's display better than the Miller's over there?" I ask him, pointing. The Miller's house is outlined in soft white lights. There's a candle in each window and a perfect wreath hanging in the middle of the peak of the garage. On the porch stands a small Christmas tree decorated in red and gold bulbs. It's really beautiful, but Josh only gave them a 9.

"It's nice." Josh responds. "It reminds me of the houses in Connecticut. Most neighborhoods look like that at the holidays. But it's a little too perfect. It makes me wonder if they hired someone to do it, instead of making family memories. I don't want life to be perfect. I want to enjoy it. Like the Christmas cookies, they all taste good, it doesn't matter if you end up with a green camel covered in gold stars. The fun is in making them all together."

Wow. I just fell even more in love with this man. He's showing me parts of him that others rarely see. The part that has a deeper understanding of what's important in life, and has decided to reach for that for himself. And I know it's what I want too. To spend it next to him.

When we are almost back to the house, snow begins to lightly fall. It's magical, like out of a movie.

"How'd you do that?" I laugh, teasing him since he's usually quick to claim credit for all manner of things.

"I can't control the weather, Donna! What kind of power do you think I have?" He teases back. Then his faces turns a little serious, and his eyes get a little smoky. "But I can keep you warm."

He pulls me close and kisses me intently. Then he looks deep into my eyes. "And I can do this."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little black box.

I can't believe it. It hasn't even been a week since our first date. I haven't had any doubts that we'd eventually end up this way, but I never expected Josh to get here so soon. My heart swells as he drops to one knee. I'm barely able to keep myself together as the emotions that have been building for the last 6 years swirl inside of me.

"Donnatella Moss, will you marry me?"

Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and I tilt my head back and blink a few times, trying to will myself not to break down. I want to etch every piece of this moment into my memory. When I look back down a second later, I see the raw emotion on Josh's face. He's vulnerable and unguarded. And he's radiating pure love.

Bartlet's bulldog is nowhere to be seen right now. He's not the Deputy Chief of Staff. He's not a Fulbright scholar. He's not the 101st Senator. He's just a man kneeling in front of a woman laying his heart out, and asking to be loved in return.

"Ummm, Donna? Getting kind of cold down here." Josh's eyes are sparkling as he tries to lighten the moment. "Can I get an answer to my question?"

I'm overwhelmed. And this has been just perfect. Everything I could have imagined. I couldn't have asked for a better proposal.

"YES! You silly man! Of course! Get back up here." I haul him to his feet and kiss him like crazy.

Suddenly, I hear a cheer from the house. I look over to see 10 noses pressed against the window. Apparently, my whole family just witnessed that. Good thing I said yes. I hope one of them video taped it.

I turn back to Josh and give him another kiss for good measure. I swear I could stay in this moment forever. "I love you," I whisper, as if that wasn't obvious.

"I love you, too," he tells me. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you." He kisses my forehead. "But for now, let's go inside. I think there are some people in there that are pretty happy for us right now."

I grin as he laces his fingers in mine. As we're walking up the sidewalk, the door flies open and my Mom lets out a yell that I'm sure the neighbors hear. Josh and I are both immediately bombarded by hugs, well wishes, and requests to see the ring. Through it all, he never lets go of my hand.

When the little ones lose interest, and everyone begins to give us some breathing room, my father finally steps forward.

"Congratulations, baby girl," He tells me.

"Thanks, Dad." I give Josh's hand a little squeeze. My father's approval means a great deal to me.

"Dad," Josh gives him an appreciative smile and extends his arm to shake his hand. Something passes between them and I can't help but to think this engagement isn't completely new information to my father.

"Congratulations, Son. You're a good man, and you make her happy." My father tells him. "As a parent, this is what you hope for when you think of your child's future partner."

"I'm honored, sir," Josh responds humbly.

"You'll understand one day," Dad tells him with a smile. "When you're the father of daughters."


End file.
